


Beauty and the Beast

by bartholomewtheant



Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Oneshot, Other, based of Nerdfiction discord headcanon, mute!y/n
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29007834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bartholomewtheant/pseuds/bartholomewtheant
Summary: Just a university party, what could go wrong?
Relationships: Damien | The Mayor/Y/N | The District Attorney (Who Killed Markiplier?)
Kudos: 14





	Beauty and the Beast

_It was a terrible idea from the start._ But Damien insisted this time and this time he listed too many reasons so you couldn’t say no.

And now you were here. You looked at yourself in the mirror, hands clenching on the sink that looked more expesive than your whole bathroom. It wasn’t a nice look, your nose wasn’t entirely broken but it was still all bloody and staining your clothes, face, hands and everything. Not to even start about the messed up hair. You turned the water on and started the painful process of washing it off.

„Hey yn, why are you still studying? You didn’t foget about the party tonight, right?“ _Well I certainly tried to._ But unsuccessfuly. You placed the bookmark in the book and closed the pen with loud click.

„It’s going to be fuuun,“ Damien leaned on the table, shifting your notes to the side. His hair was slicked back as usual and only his red bowtie suggested he was trying to be less uptight than usual. He was grinning. You sighted so heavily that the smile faded a bit but little did he know, you were just being overly dramatic. _Let’s just go already_

_You let the water run down your arms as you start getting whipped cream out of your hair._

Something in this shade of blue can't be healthy, you thought for yourself as you swirled around the contents of your cocktail glass. It didn't quite smell like alcohol but it certainly didn't smell like blueberries as advertised.

You gave it a sip. It wasn‘t so bad. Time to return to the cards in your hand. Which were no good. One could even say exeptionaly bad or terrible.

It's been that way almost whole evening.

Someone erupted in laughter. It was the guy next to you, some sort of sports player... You could tell he's been drinking for a while.

Damien caught your frightened look and smiled. Then he made a silly face as his hands moved under the table and back unnoticed by others. He was holding a card. A card that was not supposed to be anywhere near him or even in his possesion. You watched as the table erupted in laughter again and he placed it in sleeve of player next to him, a guy named Sam, still unnoticed, still grinning and at one point ever keeping up a conversation with said person.

"Hey Yn, your turn!" You made your bad moves and elbowed the sports guy who seemed to start dozing of.

He was doing pretty great for a person whose cards must have been swirling around like crazy. It’s Damien’s turn. His hands move quickly and he’s telling his favorite anecdote as he plays. Everyone should be watching his hands instead of the pretty face but it’s too late. Sam’s turn. He’s doing good.

Untill he reaches for his drink.

The card slowly falls out of his sleeve. Everyone sees it. Sam stands up, lifting his hands up. „It’s not my card, I swear!“ he yells to his defense. You feel the person next to you stand up.

Damien is smiling.

_The nose almost stopped bleeding, now it was just painful. Almost painful as your eye._

You and Damien jumped in to pull them apart. Sam was spitting insults the whole time and you caught elbow to your eye one time. „Let me go you snake. You and your gold digging sister are disgusting sort of people! You wouldn’t want to get your hands dirty by a nasty fight, huh?“ You saw light die in Damien’s eyes as he let go of Sam. Unfortunately, between him and the sports guy there was still one person.

You tried to stop them, you really did.

There was a crack originating in your nose and some punches, painful squishes and some other stuff.

Next thing you knew you flew onto some table. Back hitting it. Your hand was in bowl of fruit punch, hair in some dessert. And you couldn’t breathe.

There was no air. You gasped for air, lips opening desperately, chest not really raising like it should.

 _Please._ You begged, eyes filling with tears maybe from the punch. _I don’t wanna die here. Not on this table. Not underneath the bright lights. Why is noone helping me? Are they letting me die here? Pleasepleasepleaseplease-_

A hand grabbed your shoulder and pulled you up. They punched your back as you thought _just no more pain please_ and your breath was back.

As you bent over in coughing fit you realized Damien was talking to you. In fact, he was almost yelling.

„Are you okay?! Do something! Tell me! Please nod if you’re okay, please please.“ He was holding your hand, squshing it between his palms desperately. You squished back. That made him look up to your bloody, teary and whatever else face. A nod. That was all you could do.

„Oh my god. Oh my godohmygodohmygodohmygod.“ He burried his face in your shoulder mumbling those words over and over. You had no idea how long you lied on that table, gasping for air. It felt like years. But for Damien it was centuries.

Your hand was dripping blueish colored punch. There was whipped cream in your hair. And your nose was dripping- oh that’s blood. You gently pushed Damien aside before any of those things had chance to get on him. His eyes were teary. _It’s okay._ You wanted to say but were to busy with holding one hand on your nose. He helped you stand up. Room was slightly swinging. Someone stopped the music and the lights. Those two weren’t fighting.

_I want to go home._

_It was a terrible idea from the start._ But the blood could be washed. So could be the tears. You weren’t so sure about the blue stuff but the tiredness was getting to you and you didn’t care.

Someone politely knocked on the bathroom door. „Yn? You okay in here?“ Two knocks on the sink could give Damien the idea. „Right. I’m coming in.“

„You look terrible.“ Sigh. How did he expect you to look?

„You wanna go home?“ _YES!_ A nod.

And so there were – two figures, one supporting the other, walking down the dark alley. There was silence, a comfortable one. Just sound of footsteps and-

„Hey!“ A whistle. „Hey beauty!“

„See, they still think you’re pretty.“ Damien laughed as you quickly passed catcaller. You pointed a finger at him. _No U. They meant you._

„If you say so. I’m Beauty. And you’re my Beast. We are… Beauty and the Beast.“

_„Good to let the old beast out every once in a while.“_


End file.
